


Boggartbusters

by Anonymous



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Boggarts, Diagon Alley, Draco Malfoy & Pansy Parkinson Friendship, F/M, Fluff, London, POV Pansy Parkinson, Pansy Parkinson-centric, Sirius Black Flirts, Suspense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-20 13:08:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30005352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Pansy's innocuous - though lonely - life is turned upside down when she discovers a boggart in her house and meets Sirius Black, a former Auror who specializes in boggart removal with his friends.(Inspired by the 1984 movie, Ghostbusters.)Pulse quickening, Pansy clutched her shaky wand aloft and pointed it at the cabinet. Her muscles tightened, bracing herself for what she would find hiding under her sink, and opened the door with a flick of her wand.The hinges creaked and out stepped…
Relationships: Sirius Black/Pansy Parkinson
Kudos: 8
Collections: 2021 DBQ Round One: Boggart





	Boggartbusters

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by [TheSlytherinCabal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSlytherinCabal/pseuds/TheSlytherinCabal) in the [DBQ2021Round1](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/DBQ2021Round1) collection. 



> Disclaimer: The characters do not belong to me but are the property of J.K.R. and Warner Bros. No copyright infringement is intended. The theme for this round of the competition was Boggart and my chosen pairing was Pansy Parkinson/Sirius Black. Comments/Reviews are encouraged by The Slytherin Cabal's Admin Team on all stories in Death By Quill, but comments left by readers are set to be moderated by story authors until the end of the competition in order to protect participants' anonymity. Thank you to my beta for their time and help.

Nothing exciting happened in Pansy Parkinson’s life.

Ever.

That’s not to say it was a bad or unfulfilling life. She enjoyed her work as a potioneer very much — it was a good way to make a living and stay out of the public eye. The desire she possessed in her youth for fame and attention had waned as she grew older; so when Draco offered her the job at his Apothecary in Diagon Alley, she jumped at the opportunity.

Her routine varied little from day to day — wake up, work alone in the potion lab, pick up groceries for dinner, dodge awkward conversation with her neighbour, go to bed, and get up and do it all again. At least this was her dull grind of a life until the day it wasn’t. What should have been an ordinary Wednesday changed Pansy’s life forever.

There was nothing about this particular Wednesday to suggest anything extraordinary would occur. Pansy’s schedule followed the same pattern as every weekday prior.

She arrived at work and Draco was leaned back in his office chair reading the _Daily Prophet_. They exchanged morning pleasantries, Draco gave her the day’s potion list, and she got to work. Around mid-day, she minded the till while Draco picked up some take-away from the Leaky for the pair of them. After he returned, they ate lunch and chatted about nothing in particular.

Today Draco was making fun of a human interest story he found in the _Prophet_ that morning about a new professional boggart removal business.

“What kind of self-respecting witch or wizard can’t tackle a boggart without calling a professional?” he posited.

Pansy stuffed a chip in her mouth and shrugged. The boggart back in third year Defense class had kind of sucked. It didn’t seem like such a bad business plan to her but before she could comment, Draco moved on to another topic.

On her way out the door at the end of the day, she snagged the copy of the _Prophet_ , like she did every day since she started working for Draco. Before, he threw the paper out when he was done with it but Pansy had convinced him to let her take it each day. At the very least it gave her something to read once she was home and she didn’t have to pay for a subscription.

* * *

With a sack of groceries in one arm, Pansy walked down the hall toward her flat. She reached her door and cringed when a breathy, reedy voice called out.

“Hey, Pansy!”

 _Smith_.

It was always Zacharias Smith — without fail.

No matter how carefully and quietly she crept through the hall, the man somehow always knew she was there and wanted to talk.

“Hello, Zacharias,” she said through clenched teeth and a forced smile.

“Hey. So, I’m having a little get-together Friday. Just a few old friends from Hogwarts, you know?” He scratched his forearm and cleared his throat. “Maybe… I dunno… maybe you could stop by? I know everyone would love to see you. It’s going to be a lot of fun.”

Like she did every time Zacharias waylaid her, she offered a promise to think about it and slipped into her flat, quickly shutting the door behind her.

Sagging against the closed door, Pansy closed her eyes and shook her head. Zacharias’ muffled voice was still prattling on the other side and she wondered if the guy would ever take the hint. She knew he only held his “little get-togethers” because he wanted to _get together_ with her. And even if he did have the nerve to invite her old housemates, which he didn’t, there was no way any of them would show up to the annoying badger’s party.

No matter. She was home now, alone in her flat, and it was time to make dinner. What started as a way to ease boredom, teaching herself how to cook the Muggle way turned out to be one of Pansy’s favourite things. A couple of years and a massive cookbook collection later, and she could roast, saute, or flambe with ease.

Setting the bag of groceries on the counter, she poured herself a glass of Merlot and flipped through the _Prophet_. A half-page photograph of three middle-aged men caught her eye. The caption beneath the photo read, “Lifelong friends, James Potter, Remus Lupin, and Sirius Black (pictured left to right) in front of the headquarters of the Wizarding World’s first professional boggart elimination service.”

 _This must be the human interest story Draco mocked this morning_ , Pansy thought. She sipped her wine and scanned the photo again.

Mr Potter was the dad-bod version of Harry, and Mr Lupin still looked as ragged and half-starved as he had in her third year. But self-proclaimed, long-time bachelor Mr Black was keeping it fit. The trio draped their arms across each other's shoulders, smiling and laughing like schoolboys. Leaning against the counter, she skimmed the article.

After a boggart encounter at the Potter residence, Black convinced his Auror partner to give up the prestigious life of hunting dark wizards and go into business with Lupin who was between employment at the time. Using the combined Potter and Black fortunes to finance the enterprise, they were optimistic to fill a need within the Wizarding community. They established their headquarters, aptly named “Boggartbusters,” in Camden — south of the Canal, near High Street — in what appeared to Muggles as an abandoned Sainsbury’s. The article then went on with quotes from the men, and a phone number and operating hours.

Pansy tapped her knuckles on the slate Formica and considered the photograph again.

 _More than one lifelong friend_ , she mused. _Wonder what that’s like._

Out of the corner of her eye, the cabinet under the sink opened and shut, as if a small puff of air had blown it. Her head snapped in the direction of the cabinet door.

_Weird…_

Pansy took a step back and tilted her head to one side. Squatting down, she examined the door a moment. Then with bated breath, she prodded it once with a finger. When nothing further happened, she hummed to herself, rose to a standing position, and began preparing dinner.

While she was chopping vegetables and cooking, time seemed irrelevant to Pansy. It was the one activity in her life where she didn't have to worry and could allow her mind to fully engage in the process. Potion making was similar, but it required more focus and therefore wasn’t as relaxing; it also didn’t result in a delicious meal at the end.

Tonight’s menu was a citrus and herb whole roasted chicken — one of her favourites. A whole chicken was way too much for one person to eat at once but that was the beauty of leftovers.

She brushed melted butter along the inside of a large roasting pan (butter is the best, accept no substitutes) and set the oven to preheat. Vegetable peeler in hand, she flayed long ribbons of carrot skin with care and placed the prepped carrots in a pile near the cutting board. After slicing the ends off the onions, her thumbnail tucked under the thin onion skin and pulled, shucking off the brown to reveal the white flesh beneath.

Setting the knife to the cutting board, she began the task of roughly chopping the peeled vegetables. The sound of sharp metal against wood transported her and set her mind at ease. This was the perfect way to unwind at the end of the day.

After stuffing the inside of the chicken with lemon, onion, and garlic, and brushing the outside with a generous helping of butter and herbs, she stuck the bird in the oven. Now all that was left to do was wait, so Pansy poured herself another glass of wine and settled onto the sofa in the living room to read the rest of the _Prophet_.

About forty-five minutes later, a mouth-watering smell wafted through the flat, warmed from the heat of the oven. The distinct aroma of butter-crisp chicken rubbed with salt and oregano blanketed the small space. A touch of fresh citrus and earthy, roasted root vegetables coupled and mingled together as well.

Pansy’s stomach growled as she ambled into the kitchen. Her hand moved up to turn off the stove and the moment her fingertip pressed the off button a loud _WHACK_ echoed from behind her.

Spinning around, another _WHACK_ rang through the still room as the cabinet door opened with a jerk and slammed shut. Pansy gasped and grabbed her wand. A third time the door opened wide and shut with unnerving force, _WHACK!_

Pulse quickening, Pansy clutched her shaky wand aloft and pointed it at the cabinet. Her muscles tightened, bracing herself for what she would find hiding under her sink, and opened the door with a flick of her wand.

The hinges creaked and out stepped…

 _But- this is impossible._ Pansy’s heart thudded out of her chest. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end.

…Draco.

His eyes were cold and disinterested; his mouth a sneer. “You know,” he studied his fingernails, “I only hired you because I took pity on you.”

“I- I-” Pansy stammered. “H- how?”

Then the answer smacked her like a lorry — it was a damn boggart.

_Ok… boggart… make it funny. How do I make Draco funny?_

“We were never _real_ friends.” The malicious boggart-Draco’s eyebrows arched high.

_Well, that’s just cruel._

Taking a deep breath and squaring her shoulders, Pansy pointed her wand and shouted, “Riddikulus!”

Boggart-Draco put his hands on his hips. “If that’s the best you got Parkinson, then I’m glad I can finally stop pretending to be your friend.”

She clenched her jaw and shook her head. “No… Riddikulus!”

A savage, inhuman laugh rang out from boggart-Draco. Then in a mocking, sing-song voice, it said, “Little Pansy can’t do it. No wonder no one sticks around.” It took a step towards Pansy.

Black spots began to cloud her field of vision.

The boggart took another step closer.

This was hopeless. She couldn’t do it her third year and she couldn’t do it now. Last option… run.

Pansy bolted past boggart-Draco and out the door of her flat, slamming it behind her. She raced down the hall and to the stairwell, not slowing down until she was out of the building.

Safe on the sidewalk, she bent over with her hands on her knees, gulping air into her lungs. Tears streamed down her cheeks — physical evidence of her embarrassment and frustration at what the boggart transformed into and her inability to dispose of it.

Wiping her face with her palm, she took a shuddering breath and wondered what she was going to do. She couldn’t go back to her flat and after that whole ordeal, the last person she wanted to see was Draco. There wasn’t anyone else —

The black and white image of three laughing friends drifted to the front of her mind, and Pansy thumped her forehead for not thinking of it sooner.

_Where were they located?_

Pacing in front of her building, she racked her brain and tried to remember the details of the article she skimmed an hour earlier.

_Kensington… no. Croydon? No… Camden! Yes, Camden._

Summoning all the confidence she could muster, Pansy held one singular thought in her mind — Boggartbusters, Camden — and turned on the spot.

She apparated with a soft _pop_ , landing in a plot of land between two buildings; a few trees and flowers were planted in the small green space. Stepping out and into the busy sidestreet, she got her bearings and headed in what she hoped was the right direction.

A few wrong turns later and Pansy eventually found herself staring up at the words “Boggartbusters” in large, white, block-face letters, on the side of an otherwise unassuming building. She shook out her hands and opened the door.

The echo of her heels through the high-ceilinged space made her stomach give a nervous flutter. Judging from the look on the outside and these high ceilings on the inside, she ventured this building must be rather large.

She walked up to the girl behind a desk, who appeared to be a few years older than her, with a slim face and a bubblegum-pink, pixie haircut. The nameplate on her desk read _Tonks_.

“Wotcher!” Tonks’ face lit up when she saw Pansy approach.

Clearing her throat, Pansy said in an undertone, “This is Boggartbusters, right?”

“Sure is! If you’ve got boggart troubles, then there’s no place better to take care of you.”

Something rustled from inside the office a few feet behind Tonks’ desk and soon a head popped around the doorframe. “Customer, Tonks? Why didn’t you say something?”

“She’s barely walked in the door, Sirius.” Tonks rolled her eyes and grinned.

Sirius sauntered out of his office and perched on the corner of the desk.

An amused smirk crossed Tonks' features and she spun in her office chair to face the computer.

“So,” Sirius shook his dark, shoulder-length hair out of his kind eyes, “How can I help you, Miss… ?” He raised his eyebrows and tilted his head forward.

“Um… I’m Pansy.” She rubbed the back of her neck. “And I have a boggart in the cabinet under my kitchen sink.”

“Well, Pansy, step into my office and tell me all about it.”

Pansy followed him around Tonk’s desk and into the small room behind it, admiring the view of his arse as they went — it was a nice arse. She sat across from him in a scratchy, cloth-covered chair facing his desk and explained everything that happened in her kitchen earlier in the evening.

Leaned back in his chair and fingers steepled in front of his chin, he listened, quiet and attentive.

When she finished, she looked down at her fidgeting hands. “Can- can you help me, Mr Black?”

“Please, call me Sirius — and of course I can. I have no other appointments today, so I will take care of it immediately.” He winked and stood. “Tonks!”

Plucking a worn leather jacket from a coat rack, he tugged it on.

Even in her distressed state, Pansy wasn’t blind. Sirius was gorgeous and he seemed to know it, but the leather jacket took it to another level. She glanced away, not wanting to look like she was gawking.

“Yeah?” Tonks hollered.

“When Moony and Prongs get back from their assignments, tell them where I’ve gone, and to go ahead and lock up. This might take a while.”

“You got it!”

To Pansy, he offered his arm and said, “Shall we?”

* * *

She disapparated them from his office and into her flat — better for avoiding awkward conversation with Smith. When they landed, she dropped her hand from Sirius’ arm.

“The kitchen is this way.” Pansy pointed.

Instead of heading toward the kitchen, he pulled out his wand and wandered around the living room, tracing complicated patterns in the air with it.

“Small place… just you?” He glanced at her over his shoulder and lifted a brow.

Crossing her arms, Pansy said, “Yeah. Just me.” She wasn’t sure what that had to do with getting rid of her boggart. “Don’t you want to see the kitchen?”

“Yep!” He spun to face her.

The sudden movement made Pansy flinch. Being back in her apartment put her on edge.

Leading him to the kitchen, the smell of her dinner lingered, causing her stomach to growl.

“Stand over there,” Sirius instructed. “If we’re lucky, then it’s crawled back into the same cabinet.”

Staying in the doorway, Pansy wrung her hands and watched Sirius work with quiet interest.

His movement around the small kitchen was like a cat stalking its prey, easy and fluid. She wondered if this was necessary to dispose of a boggart or if he was putting on a show for her benefit. Either way, as long as the boggart was gone, in the end, she didn’t care. Plus, it was kind of fun to watch him work.

“This cabinet here?” Sirius pointed.

“Yes.” She nodded.

He straightened his leather jacket and aimed his wand with a flourish. The door opened with a slow creak. A bloody, headless corpse emerged.

Pansy covered her mouth to stifle the shriek wanting to escape.

Almost lazily, Sirius flicked his wrist and said, “Riddikulus.”

The corpse began to tapdance.

Unable to hold it in, Pansy burst into giggles.

A loud _POP_ and the boggart was gone.

“Told you.” He grinned. “Easy-peasy.”

“I- I-” Pansy was speechless. He made it look so easy. “Um…” She shook her head and reached for her purse. “How much do I owe you?”

“Well,” Sirius scratched the back of his head, “I haven’t had dinner and the delicious smell in here makes me think you haven’t either, so good food and conversation with a pretty girl, and we can call it even.”

She chuckled and said, “Deal.” It would be nice not to eat alone for once, especially when the other person was a handsome man who just saved her apartment from a boggart.

“Really? Great!” Sirius smiled.

Dinner was salvageable, having been in a turned off but still warm oven. Sirius was enthusiastic about Pansy’s cooking and for the first time in a long while, she didn’t have any leftovers.

In fact, it was the first night of many in which she did not have to worry about leftovers. The rest of the week he found flimsy excuses to visit her in the evenings until he worked up the courage to ask her out properly.

Dating Sirius was a package deal that came with his crew of friends, and one day Pansy woke up and found her life not so dull and friendless anymore.


End file.
